


Murder in a Coffee Shop: A Nikolai/Darkling Story

by DropOfGoldenSun



Category: Shadow and Bone, The Grisha Trilogy - Leigh Bardugo
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-17
Updated: 2015-07-17
Packaged: 2018-04-09 17:46:09
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,176
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4358441
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DropOfGoldenSun/pseuds/DropOfGoldenSun
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>I'd like to preface this with the fact it's a joke. It's all written as a joke. Zodiac Murderer/Coffee Shop AU.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Murder in a Coffee Shop: A Nikolai/Darkling Story

**Author's Note:**

> If you really like Mal you may want to turn back now. I do not.

1.

 

            Nikolai Lantsov was, as he would begrudgingly explain to you with a sigh and an eyeroll, the son of _those_ Lantsovs. Yes, the ones who own Starbucks. But he didn’t like to talk about it. He liked to talk about it so little in fact that he rarely even used his real last name. He hated the way people treated him like royalty when they found out who his parents were. He hated that he would never have to work a day in his life while his friends (not to mention the millions of people employed by his parents) worked minimum wage for hours just to make ends meet. Also, he fucking hated Starbucks coffee. To him the stuff just tasted like burnt leaves. Nikolai grew up trying constantly –and failing constantly- to avoid special treatment. He got himself kicked out of 7 private schools (he kept track) until his parents let him go public in 9 th grade; ironically, the same year that Starbucks went public. The first kid in his freshman class to call Nikolai “rich kid” or “loaded” quickly got himself a broken nose, and Nikolai was established as someone not to mess with.

            When Nikolai left college his parents did the last thing he wanted: they offered him a job. Nikolai was pretty sure you were supposed to do at least a little bit of work to become a national manager, but his parents assured him that that wouldn’t be necessary. He assured them that sitting in an office all day and finding new ways to overprice gross coffee and underpay hard workers was the last thing he wanted.

            First, he tried to be a barista. He figured it’d be something to do, and it’d at least still be in the family business. That, of course, went horribly. Mere minutes after his first shift the headlines were popping up.

“ _Son of Starbucks Moguls: He’s Just Like the Rest of Us!”_

_“Riches to DISHrags: Nikolai Lantsov Helps Out Behind Counter of New Haven Starbucks!”_

_“Nikolai Lantsov Spends the Day Pouring Drinks at Local Starbucks.”_

They were everywhere. Didn’t people have something better to do with their time then read this crap? Evidently not. Nikolai decided that being a barista definitely wasn’t going to work. But how about running a shop? And not one of his parent’s either. If Nikolai cared about anything in the world it was earning what was his. He didn’t want everything to just be handed to him. Of course he was perfectly aware that only the very rich had the means to have this mindset, but whatever.

His parents were reasonably confused by this decision. “But Nikolai,” they reasoned, “we already HAVE coffee shops. Quite a few of them. You can manage one of those, cant you?” Nikolai explained as patiently as he could that he didn’t want to manage the Malibu Starbucks, or the one in the East Village, or even the one in London. Eventually his parents realized that at this point they didn’t honestly care too much, so they shrugged and told him to go wherever as long as he doesn’t rely too much on the Lantsov cash. Or do, there’s so much of it it’s not like it really matters.

This was only reaffirming what Nikolai had long figured out –that his parents would rather he just get out of their hair- but it still felt like a weight off his shoulders. That very night he went online and bought a train ticket to New York. Yes, New York. He was a bit of a cliché.

Sitting on the train he felt a little jittery. He had never been off on his own before except for college, which hardly counted. This was different; this was dangerous, exciting. Setting sail on a ship that’d take him to a brave new world. And since the media didn’t know where he was going (it had been a day since he decided to do this, how could they know?) he needed only to change his name and he was anonymous. Anonymous, it was a strange word. The fancy private schools and “anonymous” paparazzi tip offs that they all knew were his brother Vasily had prevented him from ever enjoying this luxury before.

Nikolai jumped up a little too quickly when the announcer said “Penn Station,” and garnered a few chuckles from fellow passengers. It’s not that he had never been to New York, he had. His parents had taken him for the opening of many a new location. They would cut the ribbon for whatever new store and then embark on highly supervised trips to the opera or the park. Nikolai was sure the body guards had a great time. But as he stumbled out of the crowded train station and into the brisk air of the city he could feel a buzz in the air. The city was alive, and Nikolai was part of it. But not enough of a part of it to have anywhere to live, he realized halfway down the block.

By the end of the next block he was in a real estate store. He had also bought a new Prada suit. Why not? He’s rich, and he doesn’t need to pretend he’s not.

In the real estate store (tagline: Buy A Bite Of The Big Apple!) Nikolai realized how little he knew about New York. He didn’t know where to get a burger, let alone where to buy a house. So he went with the obvious method. He closed his eyes, spun in a circle, and bought the first thing he pointed to. It ended up not as terribly as it could have, he got a big, plain loft in Brooklyn. And paid for it in one payment in cash, which got him some very questionable looks from the salesperson. Eventually she –much to her apparent disappointment- couldn’t find any hints of forgery, so he got a key and headed out.

Something caught his eye, though, on the way out. Listings of real estate (no shit, they were in a real estate shop), but not of houses or apartments. Not of condominiums or lofts. A small piece of paper, pinned up to the wall, with a simple caption of “Restaurant Space Available! Former Coffee Shop!”

            He remembered that just yesterday he had been asking to manage a coffee shop. And what, thought Nikolai, would spite his Starbucks-owning parents more then running a _rival_ coffee shop? So he paid for that in cash too.

            Nikolai realized when he got home that he might need a staff. Sure, he was barista for a little bit at home, but he had no idea how to make coffee. Running the shop, he could wing that, but the actual food he’d need some help with. For a second he was struck with how alone he actually was-isolated and slightly estranged from his family a new city, running a business he had no idea how to run. Then he got over himself and put up a flyer:

 

Have you ever dreamed of being a pirate?

 

TOO BAD!

 

This is 2015 for god’s sake

 

But you can be the next best thing:

 

A barista!

        

Come to the Hummingbird Café

and work for a

Lovely

Handsome

(Well paying)

Boss!

 

 

Then he started decorating.

            He would never admit it –ever- but Nikolai actually quite enjoyed decorating the store. His childhood was (unfortunately) filled with things like calligraphy lessons, so soon the giant oval of wood he had bought said “Hummingbird Café” in big swirly letters. And while rock music blared, he painted the walls and even assembled a counter or two. Carpentry lessons were some of the more useful ones his parents had forced him into. Well, Nikolai figured, google would’ve been just as helpful, but not nearly as expensive, and that’s obviously what mattered most. He may have no real life skills but he could build a damn fine boat. Or a counter, which was what mattered now.

            He was contentedly painting a slab of wood lavender (to be used for, well, something he guessed. a table?) when he was startled to see two people standing in the door.

            “Your flyer was ridiculous,” began the small-framed girl, slapping it onto the half built counter, “but we need jobs.” She nodded to the boy standing next to her, who had to be at least 6’6”. 

            Nikolai took a moment to take them in. The girl was small and skinny but carried herself as if she was a roman emperor. She was wearing black skinny jeans and a leather jacket, and looked like she could kill you with a glance. The boy was, well, giant. He looked like he could kill you with one punch. Overall, they looked like they could kill you. Nikolai thought that was kinda cool.

            “My flyer,” He answered as he strutted over to the intimidating pair of teens. “Was not ridiculous.” He tried to look as stately as possible, but that was hard with a 7 foot something man towering over him.

            “Yeah, whatever,” Responded the girl. “Are we hired or not? And is that Armani?” she gestured to his shirt, which was in fact Armani.

            “Yes, it is,” responded Nikolai. “and thank you for noticing my impeccable sense of style.”

            “No offense, but how can you afford that?” the girl inquired. Nikolai realized that he didn’t actually know her name, or the name of her… boyfriend? Brother? Whatever the tall one was.

            Nikolai shrugged, and informed her “The coffee shop industry pays better then you might think.”

            “Your coffee shop isn’t open yet.” she pointed out.  
            “Not what I meant.”

        The girl started to respond, then shook her head with an expression that showed that at this point she really didn’t think worth it to press the issue. “I’m Tamar. This is my brother Tolya.”

            “Hey.” said the giant. Said Tolya. Whatever.

            “So are we hired?” the girl –Tamar- again inquired.

            “Well,” Nikolai began, “you could stand to smile some more. And your wardrobe could definitely use some color. But I’m into the whole biker-turned-barista aesthetic for this place, so sure.”

            Tamar cracked a smile, which Nikolai already knew would be rare, and shook her head like she couldn’t quite believe he was a real person. Tolya just nodded as if he knew this was coming.

 2.

       The Hummingbird Café was soon open for business. Sure, three employees was running a little low, but Nikolai was pretty sure he could handle anything. He had found three a _ma_ zing aprons in a goodwill somewhere, so the twins and him were decked out in metallic teal with black ribbons. Well, he was. The twins, Nikolai was pretty sure, had burned theirs. Oh well, he thought, let them look as drab as they wanted. _He_ was fabulous.

            The first few customers were easy. They stumbled in with that bleary-eyed look that proved that they didn’t care what exactly they were given as long as it was caffeinated. Nikolai and Tamar happily worked the whirring knobs and switches of the various machines and their first rush hour went by without a hitch. Tolya, it turned out, had quite the knack for baking. His pastries were flying off the shelves and customers could munch on croissants or cookies as they headed from the Hummingbird away to work.

            Soon Nikolai was getting into it, throwing in spins or tap-dance moves as he traveled from counter to fridge to machine, flashing smiles to the customers as he made their morning drinks.

            One look from the girl who came in at 9:00 put a stop to _that_ fun. She shot Nikolai a glare so intense you’d think her crystal blue eyes would bore literal holes in his skull.

            “Maybe if you weren’t doing all that _twirling_ you would’ve remembered I asked for almond milk, not soy. And you obviously have no idea how to make a proper latte. You realize that’s not even the right machine, right?” She paused a moment, then added “And you should’ve waited longer before opening, the whole place stinks of cheap paint.”

            “Look, ma’am,” Nikolai responded with a tone that could cut through steel. “If you want to run a coffee shop, get a fucking coffee shop. If you want coffee made your way, make your own coffee. And the only thing here that’s cheap is that knockoff Burberry jacket.

“and am I supposed to believe that you –the owner of yet another coffee shop in Brooklyn- are wearing real Versace?”

“As a matter of fact I am.” His face fell from it’s smug smile to ask “Am I actually using the machine wrong?”

The girl’s face never fell. She kept her shoulders back and retained the air that she was a supermodel surrounded by chubby fourth graders. “Yes, you are. “

“Do you…” Nikolai’s face looked as if he was physically in pain. “Need a job?” he finished through gritted teeth.

The girl recoiled as if she had suddenly been hit with a bad smell. “What?”

“Look, I think we both know that I have no freaking idea how to make coffee..”

“Fine. I’m Zoya.” She said, holding out her hand. “And you realize you’ve just spent 4 minutes arguing with me instead of making coffee for the, what, 20 people in line?”  
            Soon enough the Hummingbird had settled into a routine. Nikolai worked the counters, charming the pants off people to distract them from the slow service, or the fact they forgot soy milk, or just because he fancied them. Zoya actually made the coffee, working the intricate machines with such grace and ease that Nikolai was never sure if she was even touching all the dials and knobs or just using telling them what to do with graceful waves of her hands. Tamar made the simple stuff: tea, hot chocolate, steamed milk. She looked hopelessly bored with it all, but something told Nikolai she was longing for something closer then fight club then frappe making with Zoya. Tolya sat in the back room baking and doing the logistics stuff. He fixed the machines when they were broken, and when there was nothing else to do he read poetry. Nikolai nearly laughed out loud when that particular hobby had come into light. He managed to repress that urge though, because he was pretty sure that Tolya could snap him like a twig.

 They even had regulars! There was a tall lanky guy whose never-ending cups of tea were labeled with the name David. From how many hours he spent on his laptop in the corner the Hummingbird gang was pretty sure he was a writer. Every now and then he’d tug on his hair, heave a heavy sigh, and collapse onto his tabletop. Sometimes one of the gang would give him his next tea for free when this happened, even if Zoya thought he was “Nerdy and unappealing in nearly every way.”  Zoya had a knack for making most people seem unappealing in nearly every way.

There was a pretty girl named Nadia who always ordered lattes, and only ever when Tamar was the one working the counter. To Nikolai it seemed like Tamar tended to smile a lot more on days Nadia came in. To Zoya it seemed as though they were (as said to Nikolai) “Holding up the line with their moony eyes.”

They had other customers too; the redhead who always got an extra cup of milk for his cat, the pretty girl who looked like she had some pretty bad burn scars, and a whole crowd of teenagers who meet here after school a couple days a week.

It was a cozy little business but Nikolai was soon realizing nothing particularly exciting happened there.   He knew it was irrational, but he found himself missing the paparazzi chasing him and the invites to awards shows. He was starting to regret not accepting Taylor Swift’s invite to the VMAs.             God knows he dressed better then Harry Styles, who she ended up going with. Dumb Harry, Nikolai found himself thinking, with his boring solid black tuxes and hair way too long to be acceptable. Dumb Harry who got adventure.

To put it simply, running a coffee shop (even a coffee shop that pissed off his parents by it’s very existence) was no 18th century privateering. Nikolai craved adventure. And then adventure walked right through his door.

It was a Tuesday like any other. Nikolai was making himself a chai latte while Tamar and Nadia flirted at the counter, Tolya read an e. e. cummings collection, and Zoya read vogue in a corner.

The doors opened with a flourish and in he strutted. He was pale with black hair and the darkest eyes Nikolai had ever seen. He was wearing a long black coat that Nikolai was fairly certain was Burberry. Nikolai nudged Zoya and glanced pointedly at the new customer.

“I approve.” He mumbled to her.

“Gross.”

“I mean he’s dressed nicely. And has a really chiseled face. Is my face chiseled enough?”

“I’m ending this conversation.” Zoya informed him as she spun on her heel and walked to the back room, grabbing her Vogue as she walked. Nikolai absentmindedly stroked his cheekbone, an action that was ended with a jolt when the customer glanced at him.

“Welcome to the hummingbird,” began Nikolai with a but of an extra smile. “Wha-“

“Coffee. Black.”

“Tamar!” Nikolai called. “A black coffee!”   He turned back to the customer and extended his hand. “I’m Nikolai, by the way.”

“I’m-“ the customer faltered for a split second, then continued with “Alex.” He didn’t shake the hand.

Alex got his coffee and left with the same dignified swagger he had entered with. It wasn’t until later when Nikolai was cleaning up that he noticed Alex had dropped something. It was a scrap of paper with lines and symbols that didn’t look like any language Nikolai knew. It was obviously a code of some sort, and maybe it was a clue to the back story of Tall-Dark-And-Handsome, AKA Alex. Nikolai put down his broom and set to work.

He enjoyed cracking the code. It wasn’t that hard and it reminded him of the puzzles he used to breeze through as a kid. They were fun even if the most advanced ones he could find were always a few levels beneath him. In a little over an hour he got Alex’s code. It didn’t make sense though, but that wasn’t Nikolai’s fault. He –as always, he thought with a smirk- did everything perfectly. The answer appeared to be a string of initials and maybe addresses? It didn’t give any clues to who Alex could be so Nikolai didn’t really care all too much. He put it aside, turned on some Beyonce, and continued sweeping the shop.

 

3.

 

“Oh, guys!” Nikolai exclaimed as they were readying the Hummingbird for opening the next day. “That hot guy who came in here yesterday dropped this super weird code on the ground.”

The group only seemed mildly intrigued by this information. Nikolai was confused. A hot guy! A mysterious code! What was boring in any way?

“Here, look at it!” He commanded Tamar, who glanced at it and continued making coffee. Then in a moment of realization she spun around and ripped the paper out of his hands.

“Nikolai! Do you not recognize this code?”

Nikolai was more concerned with the small amount of coffee that had sloshed onto his new jacket.

            “No, why?” he asked as he poured some seltzer onto a napkin, “Is it from some TV show or something?”

            “No! This is the Darkling Murderer’s code!”           

            Zoya dropped her phone and turned to Nikolai and Tamar. “Did Nikolai just solve the Darkling murderer’s code?”

            “Mmkay, I’m lost.” Nikolai stated. “Who’s the Darkling Murderer?”

            Zoya looked at him as if he were a 5 year old with two heads, both condescending and disgusted. “Are you an idiot, or do you just not watch the news?”

            “I have better things to do with my time!”

            Tolya looked up from his Dickenson collection. “He kills people then leaves coded messages. For newspapers and stuff.”

            “Do you know what this means?” Nikolai began, “Alex must be a detective! He’s probably trying to catch this guy! And I can help since I solved the code!”

            “Or maybe,” Zoya sneered, “He’s just another rando who thinks he can catch a murderer.”

            A voice from the other side of the room piped up. “are you guys talking about the Darkling murderer?”

            The group spun around in a moment of terror, but it was just David. He pushed his glasses up on his nose and approached them with a nervous gait. “Sorry. The Café technically opened like 5 minutes ago, and I didn’t realize you were doing something. But I actually wrote my journalism thesis on the Darkling murderer, so, um, yeah.”

            Tamar filled him in on the situation.

            “Wait,” he said once she was finished. “Nikolai –this Nikolai- solved the code? The one that’s been evading code breakers for years?!”

            Nikolai shrugged. “What can I say? I’m great.”

            “NOT GREAT AT HAVING GOOD SERVICE AT YOUR GODDAMN COFFEE SHOP!” yelled somebody from the rapidly growing line. There was a collective sigh as everyone went back to their stations behind the counter (or, in David’s case at a corner table.)

            Nikolai spent the rest of that morning daydreaming about Alex. He even decided what color ties they’d wear at their wedding (teal, as a reference to the apron he was wearing when they first met). He was so busy daydreaming that he hardly even noticed when Alex actually entered the shop at ten o’clock.

            “Hey Alex! Or should I say Detective Alex?” Nikolai grinned. “Same order as yesterday?” He turned to tell Tamar or Zoya what to make, but was interrupted.

            “What do mean de _tective_?”

            “Oh,” Nikolai answered, proud to have driven the previously cold and arrogant customer to actually talking to him. “I found the code you dropped, so I figured you were a detective or a police guy working to catch the Whatever Murderer. I solved it, by the way.”

            Alex flinched at this, but was back under control so quickly Nikolai thought he had imagined the moment of falter. “You _solved_ it? You cracked the code? How?”

            “Code breaking is one of my,” Nikolai smiled crookedly and raised an eyebrow, “many skills.”

            Alex raised an eyebrow back and asked with a voice as smooth as honey yet as rough as gravel, “Would you like to go out to dinner sometime?”

            Nikolai smirked. “I thought you’d never ask,” he responded as he slid Alex his coffee along with one of his own business cards.

            “Does this business card just say ‘incredible human being’?” asked Alex with a hint of amusement in his voice.

            “Well I didn’t want to lie.” Nikolai smirked. “Pick me up at seven.”

 

***

 

            “So,” began Alex as they sat at some fancy restaurant Nikolai pretended to know all about. “You solved that code in a day? How?”

            Nikolai was a little annoyed that the topic immediately went to Alex’s work, but he did have to admit that cracking the code was a very impressive thing for him to have done. “Yeah.  I’ve always been really good at that kind of thing. I just kind of like, look at it, and think about it, and it makes sense. I’ve also memorized all the classic ciphers and stuff because I had a _lot_ of free time as a kid.”

            They chatted about codes for a bit and then moved on to other topics. Nikolai learned that Alex’s grandparents were from Russia just like his own. He learned that Alex wasn’t a huge fan of movies or TV, but he read stuff like Hemingway and Fitzgerald. Alex didn’t even seem to mind when Nikolai made jokes about how amazing he was, which was good because Nikolai made a lot of jokes about how amazing he was.

            At the end of the night Nikolai went home with a smile on his face. Finally he may have found someone as awesome as him. Someone clever enough to keep up with his thoughts, someone with a good enough sense of style, someone who seemed to really get him. Not to mention the fact he was a detective, because how hot is that? Thinking about it Nikolai realized that Alex never actually confirmed he was a detective, but he never corrected Nikolai, and why else would he be carrying around that code? When Nikolai googled it at home he realized that that particular piece of code was nowhere on the Internet, but surely the police got that kind of info before it was released anywhere else.

 4. 

         Nikolai couldn’t wait to tell his coworkers about his date. He knew that none of them really cared (he couldn’t see why, his life was extremely interesting) but that wasn’t going to stop him from telling them anyway.

            “And he’s so, like, charming!” Nikolai began. “like, you’d think he was hiding something or faking but he’s just so charming!”

            “What’s next?” asked Zoya, “comparing him to a summer’s day?”

            Tolya’s head popped out from around the corner, a rare smile on his face. “Though art more lovely and more temperate. Rough winds do sha-“

            “We get it.” said Zoya.

            “Hey, you haven’t heard him do the first three chapters of Beowulf from memory.” deadpanned Tamar, to which Tolya laughed.

            “Back to me,” Nikolai started again, but there was already a customer at the counter and they had to break apart.

            He spent the rest of that morning trying to find bits of time in which he could tell his crew about the date. What was work good for if not telling your workers all the details about your personal life? He was sire when Tamar got her shit together and asked out Nadia he would be the first to hear about it.

            At around eleven o’clock the door was slammed open by a small girl with a large dog. They walked in with such purpose that Nikolai forgot for a second that _they_ didn’t own the shop.

            “Agent Alina Starkov.” said the girl, flipping open a badge. “Are you the man from this photograph?” Nikolai kept his eye on the dog as she fished around in her pocket for (Nikolai presumed) the photograph in mention. He wasn’t sure what it was, but something about the dog rubbed him the wrong way. It seemed like a bit of an asshole of a dog.

            “Hang on, I’ll find it.” Said Alina. She tried to look Nikolai in the eyes and found him staring at the giant shepherd growling at her side. “His name’s Mal. Which is fitting because it means bad in spanish and he’s kind of the worst.”

            “So why do you keep him?” Nikolai asked. Chuckling, he added “you look like you’ve got everything perfectly under control yourself.”

            The girl scowled fiercely and handed Nikolai the photograph she had been searching for. The smirk slid from his face as he saw what appeared to be a picture of him from last night, taken through the window as he smiled at Alex. His mind started racing.

            “Is Alex okay? Are you his coworker? Did something happen to him?”

            “Coworker?” Alina seemed dumbfounded. “This man, this ‘Alex’ isn’t a police officer. We’re pretty sure he’s the Darkling murderer.”

            Nikolai recoiled as if he had been shot, and it felt like he had. In a way it did make a lot of sense. Alex’s mysterious demeanor, his unwillingness to talk about his past. How concerned he had been when his code was solved. Shit. He had gone on a date with a mass murderer.

            “Wait.” Nikoali stumbled, “What? Is he, like, after me now?”

            “I’m not sure.” Alina replied tentatively. “I’m sure serial killers want love too.”

            “Let’s face it sweetie,” Nikolai shook the worry from his face and cocked his head, “When it comes to me, everyone wants love.”

            The dog picked that exact moment (much to Nikolai’s disdain, imagine how hot it’d be to get with a government agent?) to go crazy and start barking. It was going after Nikolai like he was a steak on a stick. Mal was straining on his leash so hard it looked like it’d snap, something Nikolai _really_ hoped wouldn’t happen.

            “Sorry.” Said Alina apologetically. “’He get’s really overprotective of me, I think he can tell when people are flirting with me, and he really doesn’t like it. Which is weird, because other times he seems to just, like, totally ignore me and wont even work with me. Dogs,” she sighed, “who can tell with them?”

            “Can’t you just, like, get a new dog? Or maybe, like, a mini horse. That’d be much snazzier. And you could paint it blue. Or pink!”

            “Nah, me and Mal go way back, we entered the police academy together.”

            “Fair enough. Now back to that other thing, what was it? Oh, right. MY BOYFRIEND’S A MURDERER.”

            “Calm down. We can keep you protected, we’ll just need some information.”

             And so Nikolai spent the rest of his day answering questions about Alex. The Darkling. Whatever.

            “So,” he asked Alina after a few hours. “If I catch this guy and turn him in to you do I get a prize?”

            “That is literally a horrible idea.” She responded. “You realize he’s a murderer, right?”

            “Yes, but he fancies me.” Nikolai countered with a grin.

            “He _possibly_ fancies you. He could just want to, you know, kill you.”

            “Same diff.” Alina started to roll her eyes, but was jolted by Nikolai’s sudden exclamation of “OH! You know who could actually really help you?”

            “Let me guess.” Alina deadpanned. “You?           

            “Well, yeah, but this is a legit suggestion! That guy!” He spun around and pointed at David. “He wrote a thesis on the Darkling.” Nikolai smiled smugly. Let’s see Alina try and write him off now.

            “Hi Alina.” Said David.

            “Hey David.” Said Alina.

            “I see you two have met.” Said Nikolai. “Oh yeah, I also solved his code.” Alina’s head snapped back to Nikolai.

            “The Darkling’s code? You solved it?”

            “Yeah.” Responded Nikolai. “It was a list of addresses and stuff. Want it?”

            “No, Nikolai,” she snapped, her voice dripping with sarcasm. “I don’t want the solution to the code our best code breakers have been stumped by for weeks. No wonder he’s been spending time with you, you’re clearly his biggest threat now. How the hell did you solve it?”

            “I forget sometimes that not everyone is as extraordinary as me. Although I could’ve guessed the police weren’t, that shade of blue is flattering to nobody. Though it’s, uh, not bad on you.”

            The dog growled again. It seems this douche of dog really didn’t want anybody to flirt with its owner. Dick. Nikolai gave Alina the code and agreed to help out if there were any more. He loved the look on her face as she asked him for help. Nikolai lived for that look.

 

***

 

            He filled in Zoya and the twins as they cleaned up that night.

            “Why exactly,” Zoya had asked, “did you blow us off to talk to some girl all afternoon?”

            “She was a police officer.”

            “Makes sense. Poor people tend to go into police work and you could practically smell the inner city childhood on that girl.”

            “I thought she looked cool.” said Tamar. “Kind of badass. But also kind of… like… not. You know?”

            “Yeah,” said Nikolai. “Like, 30% badass, 20% hot, and the rest just, like, normal.”

            “Because _that’s_ a nice way to talk about women.” piped up Zoya.

            “You were literally _just_ insulting her!” Nikolai retorted.

            “Not the point.” Zoya said.

5. 

            Nikolai was still shaken when he came into work the next day. He had been so on edge the night before that he set up Home Alone type booby traps all over his apartment just in case Alex made a cameo, and he hadn’t even brushed his hair this morning. Usually this would be the most devastating part but he thought he could pull off the whole adorably disheveled look. He thought he could pull of any look, really, but adorably disheveled was a surprising new addition.

            He could tell that his crew was a little off as well. The knowledge that a murderer had ordered coffee from them was enough to make anyone anxious. Nikolai was pretty sure Tolya and Tamar were dressed even more scarily then usual, and he thought he saw Zoya with a butterfly knife.

            When the doors blew open with a dramatic flair there was a collective sharp intake of breath, followed by a relieved exhale when they all saw it was just the police officer.

            “Alina!” cried Nikolai. “Back for more? Am I gonna be like Sherlock Holmes now?

            “When even the police cant solve a crime,” He perfectly imitated a TV announcers voice, “They go to Nikolai Lantsov: Devilishly handsome genius by day, consulting code breaker by night.”

            Alina rolled her eyes but there was a hint of a smile tugging at her lips. The dog –which was unfortunately still there- growled. Ugh.

“I have a proposition for you.”

            Nikolai raised an eyebrow.           

            “Not like that! Anyway, it’d be really dangerous-“

            “Danger is my middle name.” Nikolai butted in with a cocky grin.

            “It’d be really dangerous,” Alina plowed through, “But we could really use your help to catch the darkling murderer once and for all. Like, ask him on a date and just act natural til we can get the police surrounding him. We’d give your bulletproof clothes and make it as safe as possible, and you’d be compensated.”

            “Ooh, a police sting! Would I get to wear dark sunglasses? I can totally pull off dark sunglasses.”

            Alina sighed. “I guess you could wear dark sunglasses, but only if it wouldn’t arouse suspicion.”

“Is that fancy police-talk for yes? Cuz if so then hell yeah.”

“So you’re in?”

            “I’m in.”

           

6.

            Nikolai’s heart was pounding, and not for the usual reason of pre-date butterflies. He sat at the table awaiting Alex and tried to act as natural as possible. Totally natural. Aggressively natural.  He started a tad when Alex walked in, but hopefully it wasn’t too noticeable to the mass murderer making his way to their table. That sure was something Nikolai never expected to worry about.

            “Alex, hi!” he said once he reached the table. “How are you?”

            “Nikolai, Nikolai, Nikolai.” Alex drawled as he lowered himself into a chair. Nikolai furrowed his brow at the strange greeting. “The police cannot outsmart me.”

            Nikolai’s head snapped up and his eyes widened, but in a second he regained his composure. “What are you talking about?” he asked, feigning casual confusion.

            “I have people _everywhere._ ” said Alex as darkness flashed across his face. “They can’t outsmart me.

            “I’m disappointed in you, though.” Alex continued. “I mean, sure I had to keep tabs on you- you solved my code, but I was hoping…” he trailed off, and picked up again with a sneer: “Don’t you ever tire of being the smartest person in a room? We could be equals. Don’t you want that? Don’t help the police here, it wont get you anything.”

            “Okay, yep,” Nikolai responded, “you’re insane.”

            “True, maybe.” Said Alex with a smile on his face, “but you know you’re tempted.”

            “Uh, no, actually I’m not. I’m just gonna, um go now.”

            “The thing is, though, that I can’t let that happen.”

            Nikolai looked at the gun that was suddenly pointed at his heart. “I really don’t want to get blood on this suit.” He said. “If there were any _undercover police officers_ her this would be a good time for them to _help out.”_

Alina and the dog were soon by his side pointing a gun at Alex. “Yeah, dude, we were coming. This isn’t exactly how we expected this evening to go.”

            “One last chance,” said Alex with a hint of sadness on his chiseled features.

            “Dude!” Said Nikolai. “No matter how good an all black color scheme would look on me, I’m not gonna turn into some weird kind of murder boyfriend with you!”

            Before Alex could finish saying “It’s your choice,” three things happened.

            First: Alex shot his gun. Nikolai was pushed out of the way by Alina, who in turn was pushed out of the way by the dog.

            Second: The gun was knocked out of Alex’s hand by a whirl of a kick from a blur that was later realized to be Tamar. Tolya had him in a headlock in a flash, and Zoya had the tip her butterfly knife against his heart.

            “Well.” Said Nikolai. “That happened.”

            “Nooooo.” sneered Zoya, her eyes never leaving her knife. “that _didn’t_ happen.”

            “Is this really the time to be snarky?”  snapped Alina. who was growing misty eyed looking at the bleeding lump of fur that had once been her probably-too-loyal dog.

            “Are you guys going to arrest me or whatever?” Alex inquired. “While this dead-dog stuff is touching, I’m getting rather bored and I think I’m gonna have to escape now.”

            He whirled around like a whip and knocked over Zoya and Tolya, who both sprang up in a flash, but it was too late. Nikolai yelped out loud and dove for the murderer previously known as his crush, and currently known as “STOP THAT MAN!”. Stop That Man was just a hair too quick and he escaped from Nikolai’s almost grasp and started maneuvering around tables as fast as he could.

            “I have a plan!” Yelled Alina. “Just go with it!”

            She ran and rolled, staying low to the ground, until she had reached the entrance of the restaurant. Nikolai had no idea where she was going with this. As he was about to yell this sentiment to the gang, she grabbed the mirror off the wall. Seemingly instinctively she positioned it so that the evening sun would be projected right into Alex’s face. From where Nikolai stood is seemed as if she were summoning it straight out of the sky and attacking with it, as if the heavens themselves followed Alina’s orders.

            The time it took Alex to stumble back and cover his eyes was enough for Nikolai to leap out and pin Alex’s hands behind his back, twisting them painfully into his shoulder blade. Zoya was back at his throat with her knife and this time there wasn’t any leeway between the cold blade and the bottom of Alex’s chin.

            “Come on, Nikolai.” Purred the Darkling as Alina called for some back up to take him away. “You know you don’t wanna do this.”

            “Yeah, you keep saying that.” Replied Nikolai, “But it’s not actually, you know, true. You ruined this jacket with dog’s blood! And also killed a bunch of people. So yeah, this is probably pretty close to what I want.”

 7. 

            The gang all sat in the Hummingbird that night. David was there too, because they figured as a Darkling scholar he might be slightly interested in the evening’s events. He was. He freaked out when they told him what had gone on; he babbled for like ten minutes about his theories and books and insisted on coming to see them right away (well, as soon as he had told the internet what had just happened.)

            Alina looked tired. That had been the most field action she had gotten in a while, she told Nikolai and the crew in between sips of black coffee. “Also,” she added, “my dog died. So that kinda sucks.”

            “Well,” responded Nikolai, who then took a long sip of his caramel latte, “your dog was kind of a douche.”

            “Yeeaahh,” answered Alina, “But he was really good at finding things. Like, _really_ good at finding things.”

            “Was that his only redeeming quality?”

            Alina thought for a few seconds. “I guess it was.”  
 

            Tolya and Tamar were filling in David on what happened, although their interests were in slightly different aspects of the fight.

            “So then I got him with a right hook, and then Tolya got him in a headlock while Zoya pulled out her knife, until-“

            “Wait!” David interrupted. “How tall was he? and what color was his hair? I had this theory that these murders in Tallahassee might’ve been him and I want to know if they’re true. “What color were his eyes? And did you see if he had three freckles on his left upper arm?”

            “Uh, no.” Answered Tolya.

            “No you didn’t see or no he didn’t?”

            Tolya shrugged. “No.”

            “You’re welcome, guys.” Zoya butted in. “Since you all thanked me so many times for saving all your asses.”

            “Thank you.” they all choruses dutifully with an assortment of eye rolls and a few subtle flip-offs.

            Nikolai scooted his chair closer to Alina. “You know, now that my boyfriend’s in jail for mass murder, I am fully available.”

            “You’re a dork.” She chuckled.

            “A strappingly handsome and really well dressed dork.”

            Alina didn’t dignify that with an answer.  Luckily for her, Tamar’s phone chimed just that moment and dragged away the attention. She pulled it out of her pocket, smiled, and put down her coffee cup quickly enough that a little splashed over the sides.

            “I gotta take this.”

            “Are you _blushing?”_ asked Zoya accusingly.

            “No, shut up.” Tamar answered, and she turned away. “Nadia? Hi.”

            “They are cute together.” Zoya admitted once Tamar was out of earshot.

            “Hella.” said Nikolai. Tolya nodded.

            “It’s getting pretty late.” Said Alina, “I should go.”

            “Yeah,” said Nikolai. “If this were a book it would definitely be time for it to end?”

            “Why would you say that?” Alina asked. “That’s such a random thing to bring up right now.”

            “She’s right.” said Tolya. “Plus, if this were the end of a book it would be really sloppy writing to just randomly break the fourth wall like that.”

            “Good point.” Said Nikolai, not really wanting to admit his defeat. “That would be a terrible way to end a book.”

 

 

THE END.

 

Acknowledgments

 

            I would like to thank Leigh Bardugo, for inventing all of these characters and the whole book series and universe that this is based off of, thank you and please don’t sue me!

            I would also like to thank Zoe, for making the throwaway comment that inspired this whole thing, and for making me write it for her for her birthday (happy 16th!!) and give it to her.

            Also Stav, for being willing to read bits and pieces that I sent her over facebook usually at like two in the morning, and assuring me I wasn’t being too harsh on Mal.

           Also izzybellaswan on tumblr for being awesome and being thw first person to actually ask to read this

           Lastly, I would like to thank the Pulitzer committee for giving me the Pulitzer Prize this year. It hasn’t happened yet but I think we all know it’s coming.


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